Rain In Burmicia
by Ras
Summary: AU. Kuja survives Lifa. Gerenal rant on his existance. Angsty. Yep.


Disclaimer - I do not own Kuja or FFXI.  
  
Rain. Eternal rain. Neither a heavy deluge nor a light spring shower, but the continuous pitter-patter of the in-between. It reminds me so much of . . Me. In-between. In-between sanity and insanity, realisation and naivety. But then again, maybe I am not in-between anything.. Just too naïve to see that I am, in fact, completely insane.  
  
Oh Gods! How did it come to this? This continuous, monotonous, meaningless life.. This life I shouldn't have.. This second chance I shouldn't have.. I should be dead and I should be rotting in hell.  
  
What do I have here? Worldwide and hate and unforgiving-ness? Though why should I blame those poor souls? I took the lives of their parents, their children, their queen.. Elephant-Lady. You are laughing at me now from the bowls of hell, your bulging gut convulsing in revengeful laughter. Elephant-Lady, oh how I envy you.  
  
I know what it is to live, and I despise this knowledge. I despise me. I despise me for being me. Too prideful to take his own life.  
  
Every man, woman, child I killed, every drop of blood I spilt- I do not regret it. I despise myself for this; this love of massacre. The feel of blood on my hands, life in my hands. Power. Control. The desire for power was immense, and I loved it all, the manipulation especially. It was all a play and they were all my puppets, my playthings, to bend to my will. It still is.. Except the puppeteer has lost the strings, the threads of his puppets, the threads on sanity. Such a fine line.. One wonders if he ever did have those strings, or if the strings had him- stringing him along.  
  
My mind is irrational and I wonder if it has ever been rational, or if rational is irrational, and I am actually sane? I know I am insane and I love it and I hate it.   
  
That sound, that heavenly sound, as the rain hits saturated streets, paths and foreign buildings. Such a sound that could either drive a man insane, or send him into peaceful slumber.. I sit here. Simply sit. Perched lightly upon the roof of one of these alien buildings, gazing up towards the heavens. How strange it is to be able to see sky, another reminder of my.. Other life.   
  
Images run riot in my mind. The Lifa Tree, Mist, Elephant-Lady, Zidane... The Canary. Ah my sweet Canary.. How you flew. So innocent, so naive, yet, you resisted. So delicate, yet so tough. Like a sweet rose with hidden thorns, ready to prick at the slightest disruption. All your little friends. The rusty knight, the puppet, the rat, the summoner brat, the red haired thief and that.. That thing that spoke like a five year old. How was it that I was beaten by such a group of misfits?   
  
Zidane. My 'brother', my superior, my *saviour*. You pitied me and saved my life. Why? Why did you spare me? Was it simply because you pitied me? Or was it for revenge? Did you know I would only cause myself pain if allowed to live? Is this your punishment?   
  
Why do I even write this?   
  
To structure my thoughts, give them boundaries so they cannot stray. Like a dam, as solid as the paper I write on, but a small tear, nothing more than a scratch, and everything spills out. What a mess that would cause. So I write, upholding this dam, just as my lids keep back the pride less tears.  
  
The rats will return soon, and I will move on like a spectre, never to be seen. They live, happy I am dead. I am dead. No one realises I live on, therefore, I do not exist. I should not exist. Bloody murderer, that's what I am. Who could love a murderer? A psychopath? An outcast.   
  
The rats are swarming back, like a sea of disease, a horrible infestation. They make my skin crawl.   
  
I stand. My tail, now free, sways like a silver whip behind me. There is no reason to hide it anymore. I am a Genome. Destined to die. I no longer fear it, I welcome it with open arms. Let death embrace me and free my hellish soul.   
  
Moving silently, I turn and slink away, perhaps never to see this place again. I relish in the rain on last time before boarding the Invincible. The décor seems alien to me now. All these blues. Blue. Terra. All those Genomes. I didn't care. Dead.. Necron was right, life only awaits death.   
  
The weak lose their freedom to the strong. Such is the way of the strong. And it is the providence of nature that only the strong survive.. So why do I live on? Why am I... here..? 


End file.
